Growing Up So Fast
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: Min can't help but think her little boy is growing up so fast. Inspired by LadyLapisLazuli's story A Nursemaid's Pride and Joy.


**Title:** Growing Up So Fast  
**Author:** homesweethomicide13  
**Rating:** T, just because I rate everything T  
**Warnings:** None?  
**Pairing:** Hinted at Barda and… some… girl…  
**Disclaimer:** Yeah, yeah. I don't own.  
**Summary:** Min can't help but think her little boy is growing up so fast. Inspired by LadyLapisLazuli's story "A Nursemaid's Pride and Joy".

**Growing Up So Fast**

Min stood in the doorway of her son's room and sighed. How he lived in such a messy room, she didn't know. She had no choice – she had to clean it out. If she didn't, who knows how bad it was going to get?

At the age of fourteen, Barda was a typical teenage boy. He spent most of his time with his three best friends, in his room, and more often than not, training. As she entered his perilous domain, she smiled. She remembered a time when the dresser was littered with stuffed animals instead of daggers and other training equipment, when the floor was covered with toys instead of clothes, and when the bed sheets were pale blue instead of murky black.

She started near the door, clearing away a pile of balled-up paper into his waste basket. She guessed that they had been thrown over here in an attempt to land them in the basket, however since he would have been throwing them behind him, only a few had found their target.

She picked up a pile of clothes next and dumped them onto the unmade bed, making a note to sort through them later. As she picked up his training uniform, his most prized possession – the sword his father had given him – clattered to the floor. Sighing, she picked it up and put it neatly on top of the dresser. As she neared his desk, she found more and more scraps of paper. Her son was a rather thoughtful boy, and had a very vivid imagination. Upon the paper were notes – probably from things he had made up in his head – and on some of them, sketches. She knew her son had a taste for art, though he would never admit that to his friends.

She sorted all the papers into one pile and put them into his desk drawer for safekeeping. She then replaced the lids on the ink pots and tidied away the various pencils that littered the top of the desk. As she was tidying, she uncovered a couple of books on top of the desk and rolled her eyes. Both were focused on the palace guards, describing the training each guard must have, and listing the many rules each guard had to follow.

Barda desperately wanted to become a palace guard as good – or better – than his father. He'd spend hours studying books like these ones, and then spend more hours on his training. Sometimes she barely saw him for more than a few hours a day. It was paying off, though. When she had been on a break from looking after Endon and Jarred once, she had overheard two high-ranked guards discussing the trainees, and Barda's name had been mentioned. It seemed as though he was expected to do very well.

She felt a surge of pride for her son as she placed the books neatly on the shelf above his desk. He was only fourteen and already he was being spoken about. She knew the Chief was expecting the best from him, too. But then she realized – in a few years Barda would be a fully-fledged palace guard, and would no longer be a boy, but a man.

As she was sorting through the books on his shelf, she came across a book she had not seen in years. It was very old, and the cover had nearly fallen off completely. But it brought many warm memories back to her. She could probably recite the words without having to look inside the book once. It had been Barda's favourite book as a young child. Smiling fondly at the faded cover, she put it back in its place. No doubt Barda still treasured that book.

She moved further into the room and piled all the clothes she found on top of his bed. Clearly Barda had never heard of putting things away. Deciding that she had to sort them out now before the job seemed too daunting, she began to work.

She tossed some of them to one side to be washed. The rest, however, she neatly folded and placed them in separate piles according to what they were. Once that was done, she opened his closet and frowned. She half expected to see cobwebs in there. It had not been used for some time. She soon tidied the clothes away and turned to survey what else needed to be done.

Walking over to the dresser, she removed the daggers that were embedded – point down – into the wood, and put them in the top drawer. She ignored the small book inside that drawer, knowing that it would probably be something private, and she respected her son's privacy. There was only so much a boy could tell his mother.

The bed was next. She didn't understand how the sheets could get so tangled in one night. As she fixed them, she realized they needed washing, too. Sighing, she went and fetched his spare sheets – which were also black. The cover was first, and then the pillows. As she was changing the pillow case on his third pillow, something fell out of the old one. Curious, she bent down and picked it up, thinking it was just another bit of paper he had scribbled on. As she turned it over, however, a smile spread across her face. It was a portrait, about the size of her hand. It had clearly been done by a professional painter and not Barda, but it wasn't the painting that had made her smile. It was what the painting was of.

It was a girl.

She was a pretty girl, probably about Barda's age, with a shy, timid smile and beautifully green eyes. Min couldn't help but think that perhaps Barda was ever so slightly fond of this girl.

Putting the portrait to one side, she continued to clear out the room. As she made the bed properly, she caught sight of something on the floor beneath the bed. She knelt down and pulled it out. It was a small box, full to the top with old possessions. Min smiled fondly as she recognized the stuffed dog Barda used to carry with him everywhere. She pulled it out of the box and turned it over in her hands, remembering the day he had received it. His father had come home one evening after a day at work, and had held out the dog to Barda when the young boy had come to greet him at the door. Barda hadn't let go of it for a whole week. As she ran her fingers over its soft fur, she found a rough patch. Turning the dog to look at it, she smiled. A section of the dog's stomach had been ripped open at some point, and then sown back together. She remembered perfectly how upset Barda had been when the dog had been ripped, and she remembered sitting at her sowing table repairing him. It had been worth it to see the smile that had lit up Barda's face when she'd given it back to him, all fixed up.

Those days seemed so long ago now. And although he would never let his friends see the stuffed dog he had once called Slush, it made her smile to think that he kept it close to him even now. As she slid the box back under the bed, she spotted something else under there. Pulling it out, she saw that it was a canvas. And clearly Barda had been painting upon it. She looked carefully at the sketches on the canvas and realized that it was a larger version of the portrait she had found in his pillow case. She put the canvas back under the bed and stood up, smiling.

Her son was clearly affectionate for this pretty young girl.

Barda said goodbye to his friends at his door and walked in to see his mother sat at the dining table with a smile on her face. Still, he didn't think this was odd – his mother would often wait for him to come home, and she always smiled when she saw him. She stood up when he closed the door and walked over to him. Now he was curious. Wordlessly, she held out a piece of paper.

"So, tell me Barda…" She flipped the paper over so he could see the portrait. "Who is she?" It was amusing to watch Barda slowly turn red. He looked from the portrait to his mother's face, and back down to the portrait.

"W-where did you f-find that?" He stammered, embarrassed. Min laughed gently.

"It was hiding in your pillow case. I cleaned out your room this morning." He was slowly getting redder. "I must say though, I'm looking forward to seeing the larger version." It was now no longer possible for Barda to turn any redder. "But you failed to answer my question, sweetheart. Who is she?"

"She's… she's n-no-one!" He took the portrait from his mother and made a beeline for his room. "She's j-just someone I know!" Min laughed again.

"And does she know you like her?" Barda stared at her in surprise for a moment.

"I… I d-don't!" Min crossed the room to him and ran her fingers through his hair gently.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. There's no need to be embarrassed." She smiled. "What's her name?"

"Xanthe." He muttered.

"Such a pretty name. It suits her, doesn't it?" Barda nodded without thinking, and quickly averted his eyes. "Well, I'll let you go now, and please try to keep your room tidy young man." He smiled and walked into his room. "Oh and Barda?" He turned to look at her.

"Yes mother?"

"Talk to her." She could only laugh as he flushed red again and disappeared behind his bedroom door. As she walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner, she couldn't help but think that her little boy was growing up so fast. Too fast, really. But no matter how big or old he got, he would always be her little boy.

Nothing was going to change that.


End file.
